Slaves of Fashion
by Aria of Life
Summary: After Christine Daae triumphs in Faust, she wants the praise of two people: Her mentor and her long lost friend, Raoul. But Christine soon realizes that although the two are very different, there is one thing that makes them the same... ONESHOT.RIDICULOUS.


**Herro, everybody!** **Aria here with another oneshot! **

**Again, my rule with oneshots is that they remain oneshots unless one of YOU (yes, you,) wants it continued. Feel free to drop me a PM or review to let me know if you like this! If you're too lazy, just put a smiley face or a frowny face. (if you're to lazy to do THAT...)**

**Enjoy! **

"Raoul! How wonderful it is to see you again, my old friend!" Christine Daae, a young soprano, cried. She had just finished her debut in Faust, and it was the most wonderful night of her life. It was even better when she saw her friend she used to play with.

"Hello, Christine. I am so glad you're singing again, you really have an awesome voice."

She blushed at the compliment, and then felt a bit guilty. Her Angel's praise always left her glowing and feeling special, and Raoul's had the same effect. Wasn't her angel always telling her he knew best? Why should she accept compliments from Raoul?

"Lotte, I remember when you had that lovely red scarf that I fetched for you. Do you still have it?"

"Of course, Raoul!" she giggled. "Why wouldn't I?" She waltzed over to her closet and pulled the red article out.

"I want to go to dinner with you, little lotte." He declared. Christine felt her heart skip a beat. She had always been hopelessly in love with Raoul, and had always known it. He was just so handsome!

"Shall I fetch my red scarf, Raoul?" she asked shyly.

Raoul's head jerked backwards and he looked horrified. "What? THAT old thing? Oh, you poor thing. It must be so tattered and worn by now, filled with moth holes!"

Christine, startled by his reaction, decided to keep quiet about the fact that she had always made sure the scarf was in perfect condition, solely due to the memories it held. Why couldn't Raoul understand that?

"And besides, Lotte," he continued, "it's _red._"

Christine now felt thoroughly confused. "And?" She asked, her temper rising. "Why would that be an issue?"  
>Raoul rolled his eyes. "Red is<em> so<em> out of fashion, Lotte. Half the reason I rescued it for you was so that I could buy it. The thing was gorgeous! Do you still enjoy scarfs, Lotte?"

"My name is_ Christine_, Raoul. And what are you saying? Please, get to the point."

Raoul huffed and tossed his golden locks over his head.  
>"Try a green scarf, Lotte. It's as fresh as the summer, and the color of the moment! How wonderful you will look on my arm with that! Oh, Auntie hates you, but when she sees you in green, why she'll be thrilled. It's no wonder you kept it, your Father most likely encouraged you to keep it, tramp. Tell you what-"<p>

Raoul's words were interrupted by a slap across the face.

"Get. OUT!" Christine shouted, losing whatever calm she possessed. She had felt the quiet rage bubbling inside her since Raoul had started harassing her scarf. His comment about her Father was uncalled for.

Raoul looked in the mirror at his face, now displaying a large red handprint. "You hit me!" He squeaked, his voice up and octave.

"Get out, you insolent boy, you-you-" she scrambled for an insult, "you... slave of fashion!"

"How dare you! I am slave to nobody, I'm too pretty to serve!"

But Christine was on a roll. "You are going to bask in my glory, aren't you? You want to take me out solely so I can be your...plaything! Well, I will have none of it, you silly boy! GET OUT!"

Raoul finally got the hint and sprinted from the room.

Christine breathed heavily through her nose. That had felt... glorious! A moment's silence went through the room, and then...

A slow clapping came from her mirror.

Christine turned, realizing it was her Angel. She flushed. Although she had no regrets about what she did to Raoul, she was worried her angel might consider it a sin. But he seemed... pleased!

"I see no reason why you would ever need defending, Christine. That was impressive! That ridiculous fop won't show his face here again!" He cackled.

Christine felt a flash of annoyance. This was her victory, her glory, and he was acting as though it was his!

"And I suppose you are better?" She challenged. She had long had a suspicion that he was a man. A man had pride, and now her Angel would defend his.

"You be the judge, Christine."

And her mirror swung open , reveling a long black cloak, a white mask and...

"Is that a _dead bird_ on your hat?" She asked.

"Indeed!" he said, looking pleased. "I stuffed it myself! isn't it wonderful?"

Christine put a hand to her head.

"You always said you loved Larks! Well, now I have one on my head! So beautiful, now that it is dead?"

"Angel" she stated, meaning to end it right there.

"Oh, this is nothing. Wait until you see my normal mask! It has glasses and a moustache. See?"

He turned and applied a wire object to his head.

"Nobody will even turn in the streets!" He shouted.

Christine stared.

_dear god, what was she getting herself into? _

**Let me be clear, I don't hate Raoul at all. How could anybody hate that cutie pants? Here I am just making fun things people like that might have said in their endless boredom. **

**Erik's mask was a complete accident. Also, I loved Ramin's hat in 25, but I saw a comment on Tumbler calling it a dead bird and the thought was hilarious. **

**again, most apologizes. I am board, give me credit. at least I am doing something**** slightly**** productive. **

**Bye!**


End file.
